


Then, the Sun Rises

by Dinadinu



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, Survival, Team Dynamics, Zombies, more tags to be added bc i'm stumpped rn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:43:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinadinu/pseuds/Dinadinu
Summary: About two years ago, an outbreak of an infectious disease had turned people into savage, flesh-eating monsters. They had to try set aside their differences and rivalries to survive day after day in this new world. And despite everything, things have been going well for them. Sure there were a lot of obstacles, both major and minor. And not to mention the frequent quarrels between each other, about both major and minor things. But in the end, the fact that they're alive and kicking is the most important thing of all.But then one day, Anti fucked up.(on hiatus)





	1. Discretion

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Look, that summary wasn't meant to be humorous at all. My words can just really impulsive sometimes. But it accurately represents the story, and that's what matters :D~~
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> First of all, thank you for wanting to check out this fic. As this is my first published work, feedback is greatly appreciated! I can't promise a solid update schedule as school often gets in the way of things, but hopefully, I can muster something out at least once a month.
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> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chase stands on the lookout, one arm on his hip and the other holding a handgun. Beside him is Anti, kneeling in front of the back door of a pharmacy, trying to pick the lock open, his for flickering occasionally.

He sighs in frustration and stops picking for a moment. "Why can't we just break the door down? It's a hell of a lot faster, " he says to Chase, who, admittedly, looks worse for wear.

"Yeah, and a hell of a lot noisier too, " Chase replies, sounding almost annoyed. "This place may be abandoned, but we still have no idea what's in there. For all we know, the place could be filled with an entire horde!"

Anti raises his eyebrow and scoffs. "Nah, you're just paranoid."

Chase definitely looked annoyed now. He hisses through clenched teeth and said, "Just get the damn door open."

Anti rolls his eyes and goes back to trying to pick the lock open. Chase speaks again, saying, "Y'know, I expected you to be better at this."

Anti huffs, irritation poorly concealed. "It's been a while, okay?" he rebuts. "I've never had to pick a lock in a long damn time. If it were just me, I'd just glitch through the door."  
His grip on the lockpick tightens and his for begins to glitch sporadically as he speaks through gritted teeth. "But since you're here, I have to-"

The door is pushed back, and Anti's ramble is interrupted. He sighs and puts the lockpick back in his coat pocket. "Finally, " he says as he stands up.

Chase moves towards the door, lightly shoving Anti behind, earning an annoyed 'hey' from the man. He opens the door gently with one hand, the other holding his gun out. To him, it visibly trembles under the gun's weight. He frowns but says nothing.

He gently opens the door, revealing it leads to the storage room at the pharmacy. There are shelves lined with various medical supplies, seemingly untouched and still usable. He scans his surroundings, cautious for any infected or other scavengers lurking about.

After a minute he says, "We're clear, " signalling for Anti, who comes in nonchalantly with his hands in his coat pockets.

"You have the list, right?" Chase asks him."Of course, I do, "

"Of course I do, " Anti pulls out a folded piece of paper, on top of it written messily is ' _GET EXACTLY THESE! DON'T SUBSTITUTE! -Henrik_ '. He opens the paper for Chase to read.

"Go look around for the things here. I'll go check at the front, just to be through, " Chase says, already moving to a doorway covered with wooden planks nailed into the walls beside it. He receives a hum in response from the man behind him.

Chase puts his gun back to its holster on his belt to pull off some of the planks. He steps through the opening he made and finds that he's behind the cashier counter. It faced forward to the store and its now broken doors. Beyond that lies a road which used to be a bustling commercial street, as far as he remembered.

The front of the store is in a far worse state than its storage room. The shelves were empty, save for a few items, and collecting dust. The wall cabinets were also empty, their glass doors broken and its frame hangs on their hinges. The cash register is caved in with its drawer hanging forward, revealing its lack of content. 'Well, it's not like we needed the money anyway, ' Chase muses to himself.

He moves to the front of the store, where the shelves and cupboards are. He carefully steps over the rubble of the broken shelves and ceiling. He opens Henrik's list of things and begins looking for the things asked.

He grabs a bottle of pills labelled ' _Ciprofloaxin_ ', recognizing it as one of the things on the list. He shakes the bottle, relieved at the sound of rattling pills inside it. He turns the bottle, looking for the expiry date, and sees that this bottle had a few months left until it expires. "Should be good enough, " he thinks out loud, grabbing the bottle and the one next to it, putting it in his backpack.

He then moves towards the shelves on the walls, seeing if they have anything of value. He picks up a roll of sterile gauze, hoping they really are still sterile.

He crouches down, opening the lower cabinets, looking for things in there as well. He adjusts his cap to get a better look at what the cabinets hold.

As he was looking through the cabinets, Chase hears shuffling from somewhere behind him. He turns his head to where the sound came from, thinking it's Anti coming from the storage room. What he sees is the still body of a man, about some years younger than himself, beginning to twitch sporadically.

It rolls to its side, one of its arm pushing its whole self. Necrotizing tissue litter it, making its movements seem almost supernatural. It raises its head up, its face turned towards Chase's general direction. Its cheeks have almost completely rotted away, revealing its teeth inside, making it resemble some sort of sickening Cheshire grin. Its eyes were hazy and glassed over, unfocused.

He needs to move, Chase tells himself. He needs to do something. Bring out his gun, call for Anti, anything. But he can't. For some reason, he's stuck where he is, frozen and silent.

It felt like a whole minute passed before that thing notices that Chase was there. But when it does, it doesn't hesitate and lunges for him, growling like a wild dog.

_'Why can't I move?!'_

The smell of ozone fills the air and his ears ring with static. Anti appears in front of him and kicks the creature right before it can touch him. It hits the wall shelves but quickly regained its ground and lunges for Anti, growling savagely and its eyes wide and feral.  
It latches on to his arm, he throws it to the shelves again. But before it could get up, Anti shoves him to the ground. He holds the creature down on its chest with his leg, takes out his knife, and stabs it in its face again and again and again.

Anti finally stops when the corpse stops twitching and its face mangled, undiscernable from mush. It's dead for good now. He's breathing heavily, exhausted from the fight, and his hands and face covered in blood. He stands up and turns to Chase who was still on the floor, starting at the corpse.

"Hey, Chase, " the glitch says, catching the other's attention. "You okay, dude?"

A beat of silence passes between them. "Yeah, " Chase begins to speak, "Yeah, I'm good." He gingerly gets up, taking the hand Anti offered to him.

Sometimes, even after seven years, Chase still finds a kind of rookie's shock lingering within him. Sometimes he just stands there, watching, unable to do anything, not knowing what to do, as if he has a persistent hangover that's finally beginning to lift. As if he had just seen this happen for the first time. Like a normal Saturday visit that had gone awry. He sighs and rubs his hands together, suddenly feeling cold.

"Poor guy," Chase says, brushing away a sudden melancholy.

Anti simply hums.

  
~*~

  
  
He got bit, he got bit, _he got fucking bit!_

When Anti had slammed that thing to the wall shelf, he felt that thing sunk its teeth into his arm. He didn't really feel it at the time, being busy stabbing its face and all. But now when that's over, the bite mark on his right arm aches.

He puts his left hand over the wound, trying to cover it. His form flickers agitatedly and his thoughts race around.

A tap on his shoulder pauses his train of thought. He turns to see Chase with a hand on his shoulder.

"You got everything?" Chase asks.

Finally getting a good look of the other man, Anti sees that Chase's eyes are red and sunken in. His beard I trimmed and hair dishevelled, its green dye faded to a yellowish colour. He looks as if he hasn't slept in a week. And considering that he drank three cups of coffee before they left, Anti thinks that might just be the case.

"Most of it, " Anti replies, adjusting his sling bag. "But I think it should be enough, "

Chase nods. "Let's get going then, " he says, already moving back to the plank covered door.

Anti sighs, "Right..."

  
As they walk back to their base, which was Henrik's house, Anti's thoughts can't help but come back to that dull ache in his arm. He keeps that part constantly glitching, hoping to numb the pain and forget it.

What the absolute fuck is he going to do? He can't just tell everyone, he can already picture how everyone would react. Chase and Henrik would probably flip out the most. The both of them had to go through the pain of finding the family dead, the later even had to shoot his own son.  
Jack, Seán, he was running up a fever. Henrik says that it's just the flu, but having two people sick in the same house? He can already picture the chaos.

Jackie would probably be the one who suggests they just throw him in a ditch somewhere. They never had the best relationship in the first place so he honestly wouldn't be surprised.

Marvin's self-esteem would drop farther down than the ocean. He's already feeling very guilty for not being able to help with the plague almost at all, having learned very few healing spells in the past. Having Anti be infected would just be rubbing salt in the wound.

And Jameson, Jameson would get so lonely. Anti and Henrik were the only ones in the house who knew sign language. And with the later constantly busy, he only had Anti to talk to. He'd go crazy from all the silence if Anti was gone.

Anti tries to repress his anxious thoughts, especially when there's Chase walking right in front of him. He can't let anyone know, but what is he going to do? He can't just lie to-

"You, you didn't get hurt back there right?" Chase suddenly asks.

Anti stays quiet for a few moments before finally answering, "No, I didn't."

You know what? Fuck it. He is just gonna lie to everyone. He's not human anyway so he would be safe, right? He'd have to cover up the bite mark, but that wouldn't be a problem. He has several rolls of gauze for when his neck wound is being a bother. No sweat.

"I'm perfectly fine, don't you worry, " Anti adds with a grin on his face.

Yeah, he'll be okay.

Probably.


	2. Perseverance

After about two hours of walking, Chase and Anti make it to Henrik's house.

It's in a suburban area, so all the houses in the area look similar, albeit in worse shape. It's two stories tall with a sizeable attic that has two small windows that face the main road and the backyard. The small lawn in front of the house was is terribly overgrown with grass and some small shrubbery, as well as vines beginning to creep up the outer walls of the house. On the right side of the house sits the garage. Inside it is Henrik's car, a dark grey SUV, which surprisingly still works. To the left of the garbage stands the front porch, which has tripwire crisscrossed all over it and the front door boarded up. In fact, every door and window of the house that faces outside is boarded up, save for the ones in the attic and the door in the backyard.

"It's easier for us to only watch as few entryways as possible, " Henrik had said.

Chase and Anti traverse through the unkempt lawn with grass as tall as their calves towards the right of the garage. There, stands a metal gate acting as the only access to the house's backyard. Chase unlocks it for he and Anti to walk through.

"We're back!" Chase announces with faux enthusiasm when they entered the house through the backyard door.

Henrik turns from his spot on the dining table, seeming to have been rereading his research papers again, and gets up towards the two.

"You found everything?" the doctor asked.

"Most of it, " said Chase, putting his backpack on the kitchen counter.

"Show it, then."

As they were organising Chase' findings, Anti walks into the house, with his boots in one hand and the other in his coat pocket, and goes over to where Chase and Henrik are, his form constantly flickering.

"Hey, Anti, " Henrik greets him. Anti hums in response and swings his hand holding his boots upwards, waving hello.

"How about you? Did you find anything-" Henrik abruptly stops speaking and moves over in front of Anti, blocking the glitch from getting any closer to the kitchen and dining room.

"Why the fuck are you covered in blood, Anti?" Henrik questions him with eyebrows crossed and a tone of sternness, thinly veiling anger and concern. Anti is slightly taken aback by the change in tone but doesn't show it.

"We got a run-in with an Infected on our trip, " Anti answers flatly.

"Did any of it get inside you?" Henrik asks him.

Anti doesn't answer for a moment. To Henrik, it felt like a very long time and he almost suspects the worst.

"No, no it didn't, " Anti finally answers.

His face was flat as he said that, emotions barely traceable. Luckily, Henrik is used to this. Although, this time, it was a bit difficult. He couldn't find any certainty in the Glitch's face, yet he couldn't find any uncertainty either. Henrik opens his mouth, about to say something else, but then changes his mind, closes it, and sighs.

"Just, just give me your bag and go wash up, " says Henrik exasperatedly.

Anti hums and nods in affirmation. He gives his sling bag to Henrik, who takes it with hands wearing surgical gloves. He always wears those gloves these days. Henrik holds the bag distantly, its bloodied sling hanging down.

"Oh, and put those boots outside, would you?" Henrik says, eyes still locked on Anti.

Anti walks towards the backyard door. He nudges it open with his boots, then places said boots down on the porch by the doorframe. He turns around, making no move to close the door, and heads for the bathroom.

Meanwhile, the doctor turns around, walking towards the kitchen. Under his breath, he sighs, " _Verdammt noch mal._ "

 

* * *

 

Anti opens the bathroom door with his right foot, pushing the handle down and then pushing it, or rather kicking it, open. He didn't want to 'contaminate the house any further' as Henrik would say it.

He steps inside, the bathroom tiles cold under his bare feet, and kicks the door behind him close.

" _Verdammt noch mal._ "

Anti heard Henrik say that from down the hall. Why did he say that? What had it meant? Did he say that because he knows? Or is he just stressed, and a little bit paranoid, as he usually is?

Anti is just going to think it was the latter, just because it's more likely as it's an everyday occurrence. And also because it's better for himself that no one knows. Just...stay positive.

What was that thing Sean used to say all those years ago? 'Positive Mental Attitude'? Granted, it was a very nice little 'mantra' to have back then. And even up until several months after the outbreak, it was still nice to hear every now and then. But now? After two years of living like this, with nothing changing, and even when they did, it was more often than not for the worse? That little sentence seems to just mock them every time it's uttered.

He glitches into the shower box, his clothes fall to the floor after being deprived of what held them up, and turns on the shower with his right foot yet again. Cold water rains down on him, washing away the grime and blood on his body.

 

Anti dries himself off, careful around his slit neck that has begun to bleed again. He comes back around to the bite mark on his arm, already beginning to scab over and leaves behind nothing more than a faint tingling sensation. He looks at it distastefully.

He grabs a garbage bag from the washbasin cabinet and carefully puts his dirtied clothes in without touching them. They were either going to be very thoroughly washed or just straight up burned. Anti honestly doesn't care either way.

He ties the bag up and puts it in a corner of the bathroom, making a mental note to put it in the laundry room after he gets dressed. He then gingerly opens the door leading out and looks around, making sure no one is in the hallway.

His form glitches out almost completely and speeds through the hallway towards his room in a streak of electricity, charging the atmosphere around him, making the hall smell faintly of ozone. He goes right through his bedroom door. Once inside, he rematerialised into a more tangible form and cracks his neck. Doing this little stunt always leaves his joints rather stiff.

Anti pulls his desk chair toward the corner of the room, where a medicine cabinet sits on the walls and a full body mirror hangs to its right. From the cabinet, he takes a half-full tube of wound treating ointment, a medium-sized box of medical cotton balls, and a roll of gauze. He sits down on the chair, his left leg tucked under the right, and sets the things down between them.

He grabs some of the cotton balls and gently soaks up most of the blood dripping from his slit neck. He rubs on some of the ointment on the wound and then rolls out the gauze and wraps it around his neck a few times, making sure that, for when it opens again, it won't leak much. He does the same to the bite mark on his arm, applying ointment and wrapping it in gauze. Even though he's probably as good as dead by now, he should at least dress it properly.

He gets up and walks over to his closet, dragging the desk chair along with him. He pushes the chair back over to his desk and opens the closet. He grabs a dark green sweatshirt and black skinny jeans, opting for comfort.

He exits his room and heads for the bathroom, picking up his clothes, moving them to the laundry room. He then walks to the kitchen, where Henrik is. The cold hardwood on his feet reminds him that he probably should've at least worn a pair of socks.

"Ah, Anti. All washed up?" the Doctor greets him from the kitchen while organising the cabinets, for seemingly no reason.

"Yeah," Anti replies. "I've put my clothes in the laundry room, by the way."

Henrik turns to face him at this. Anti promptly adds, "I placed them in the corner inside a plastic bag, don't worry." Henrik nods in response.

He turns to face Anti again, just remembering something, "Say, could you see if you can get the radio working again?"

"I mean, I can try," Anti says with a shrug. "Can't guarantee anything, though."

"That's fine."

Anti changes into his lighting form again and goes up, through the ceilings, all the way up to the attic. There, an amateur radio station is set up.

It was originally his idea to set one up, to which Henrik agreed on and told everyone to help gather the tools needed. It had taken about two months to fully set it up. It is equipped with three transceivers and amplifiers. He has also repurposed Seán's PC for the station, using it to log activities and to use digital modes with.

Recently, it seems to be unable to receive any transmissions. It's probably damaged by the storm that happened last week. Anti walks over to the station, checking if there's any damage done to the transceivers or amplifiers. He also checks the wall sockets for any faulty wiring. After finding nothing that could break the station inside, he concludes that the antenna is the one that's damaged.

He goes through the window, careful not to touch the walls, and goes to the antenna attached to the roof. He quickly finds that the tip of it has been snapped but hasn't quite fallen off yet. Right now, his best option is to just tape it back in place. They have a welder, he knows this, but Jackie is the one who keeps all the power tools, and for some reason, Anti isn't in the mood to talk to him.

So he drops down to the first floor and goes through the kitchen window. He takes the electrical tape from on one of the drawers and goes back up to the roof. Holding the snapped part of the antenna back upright, he wraps it with the tape along the seam. After he's sure it can stay upright on its own, Anti goes back to the station to check if that fixed it.

He puts on the headphones, white noise ringing in his ears. He goes through different frequencies, checking for any new transmissions, but ultimately goes to the one frequency he knows will never go down.

Unless, of course, he's dead.

When he reaches the frequency, all that is in his ears still remains anything but discernible words. Anti continues to fiddle with the transceiver, trying to clear up the signal until he hears words being spoken through his headphones.

_“...miraculously had worked. It can be attributed either to dumb luck or the author’s lack of understanding concerning ham radio stations…”_

“Host, do you read me? Over.” Anti speaks to the microphone. “Host-”

_“...he continues to say that sentence several more times, but his voice never came through the other end. Anti sighs hearing this. In hindsight, fixing the station’s antenna with nothing but electrical tape probably wasn’t the smartest idea…”_

“Fuck you!”

_“...The Host simply grins in reply. In frustration, Anti shuts down the radio-”_

Anti takes off his headphones and groans, annoyed. Although, he’s still grateful to know that the Ipliers are doing just fine. Well, at least The Host is.

He sits alone in the attic, silently debating whether or not he should just steal the welder.

 

* * *

 

“What’s for dinner?” Marvin asks, walking into the kitchen. The wall clock ticks 5:15 PM.

“Chicken soup,” Chase answers, stirring a stock pot.

“Can I help?”

“Yeah, you can go set the table. I’ll be done in five minutes.”

Marvin opens the tableware drawer. He grabs six bowls, soup spoons, and mugs and stacks them all on the counter above the drawer. He then casts a levitation spell, surrounding the tableware in a lime green cloud and brings them over to the dining table. It has three chairs on each side and one chair at the end of the table. The other side was pushed flush to a wall, right below a boarded-up window facing the backyard.

Marvin first cleans the table, making sure it's clear of dust or any other unwanted things. He then sets the bowls down in front of each chair, soup spoon to the right of the bowl, and mug to the left.

"Should I get the others?" Marvin asks.

Chase turns off the stove and looks to the wall clock, which ticks 5:20.

"Might as well," he answers.

The magician goes to the study, where Henrik sits on the desk, surrounded by stacks of books and paper.

"Hey, Schneep, dinner's ready," Marvin calls from the doorway.

" _Ja_ , I will be right over."

Marvin gives him a thumbs up before leaving and going to the second floor. He calls for Jackie and JJ who are in their rooms. Marvin also calls for Anti, knocking at his bedroom door. When he doesn't get an answer, he gingerly opens the door, but he finds the room empty. He closes the door and thinks about asking Chase or Henrik where the glitch is. Just as he turns around, Anti appears right in front of him. Marvin jumps in surprise, skin tingling from the charged air.

"What do you want?" Anti questions him, gaze having a familiar coldness.

"I was just gonna call you downstairs," the magician answers. "Dinner's ready."

Anti hums in response and turns for the stairs. Marvin follows him down to the dining room not far behind.

At the dining table, Jackie has already begun to eat his bowl of soup. Chase and Henrik talk with each other while JJ listens quietly beside them, occasionally sipping from his bowl.

JJ suddenly puts his spoon down and waves his hand in the direction of the hallway behind Marvin. The soft sound of metal hitting porcelain makes everyone turn their heads towards JJ and then to where he waves at.

"Hey, Seán," Chase greets the man in the hallway.

Seán stands with one hand holding the wall to his right. Having just woken up from his nap, his brown hair is tousled, sticking out in several directions. A white eyepatch covers his right eye. Or rather, lack thereof.

"How are you feeling, Seán?" the doctor questions him.

"I'm still a bit tired and dizzy," Seán admits, "but other than that, I'm feeling much better."

"I'm so sorry I didn't call you for dinner," Marvin says immediately after, eyes pleading. "I thought you were still resting so I figured I'll just bring you dinner right to your room."

Seán holds the other man's shoulder reassuringly. "It's fine, dude. Don't worry," he says. "Now if it isn't too late, can I join for dinner?"

"Not at all! Please, have a seat," Chase says, motioning to the chair facing the window.

"I'll go grab your bowl," Marvin says, already running into the kitchen.

By the time everyone is seated and have begun eating, the clock ticks 5:30. They all eat mostly in silence, each tending to their own bowls of chicken soup and glasses of water.

When he finishes his portion, Henrik looks up to the clock. It strikes 6.

Henrik quietly utters nothing but two words: _"Lights out."_

Everyone comes to a standstill. But only seconds later, they all get up and do their respective work.

JJ slows down reality, but only by a small margin as to not cause any complications, buying time for everyone. Marvin lifts their plates up and puts them in the sink for he and Chase to wash. Seán and Jackie grab sheets from the storage room and quickly moves to cover all the windows in the house with them. Henrik takes several candles, a matchbox, and chambersticks from a drawer in the living room. Anti zips through the house, turning off every electronic in the house, including his radio station. He is still careful not to pass through the cables connecting their solar panels to the house's power grid.

In the dark, Henrik lights the candles and places them on the chambersticks. He gives everyone one each and some extra candles. He places the matchbox on the kitchen counter should anyone need it. Everyone heads their separate ways, back to their rooms. Some choose to call it a day and rest, while others occupy themselves silently far into the night in their candlelit rooms.


	3. Lethargy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha holy cow I'm sorry this took a while. But hey, I did say once a month so here you go :P
> 
> Oh, and happy new year 2019!

“Awake already, Schneep?” Jackie greets the German in the kitchen while yawning away his sleepiness. “Or did you not sleep at all?”

Henrik scoffs lightly and says, “Old habits die hard, I suppose. For the both of us.” He sees Jackie smile almost bitterly at that.

“I’m guessing you’ve already made coffee,” Jackie says, changing the subject.

Henrik nods and gestures to the coffee maker. “Help yourself,” he says, drinking from his own mug.

From the boarded windows, the dark blue sky brightens and slowly shifts to a soft marigold, illuminating the house. The sunrise trickles life into the house again.

 

Jameson Jackson was the third to wake. It was at about six in the morning when he enters the living room area.

On the couch, he finds Henrik and Jackie on the couch, both of them geared to go outside. Jackie is tying the laces of his combat boots while Henrik is doing some checks on his hunting rifle.

Henrik was the first to notice the deaf man. He sets down the rifle on the coffee table and signs, _”Good morning, Jameson.”_ The other singed his greetings in return.

 _“Jackie and I will go hunting today. Would you mind telling the others when they wake up?”_ Henrik asks.

 _“Oh, not at all! I’d be happy to,”_ JJ answers, smiling timidly.

 _“Then we’ll be off,”_ the doctor says as he stands up, slinging the rifle on his shoulder. He walks over to the back door and opens it. Jackie gets up from his seat and follows him as well.

As they were just getting off the back porch, Jameson snaps his fingers, catching the other two’s attention. His face is still characteristically optimistic, but is now shadowed by some sort of solemness. _“Take care,”_ he signs while lightly whispering the words, his hands linger on the last gesture for a moment.

The other two both nod, then they turn to leave.

 

* * *

 

The sun had fully risen when Anti opens his eyes, sunlight coming through his curtains. He pulls himself up to sit straight and he suddenly feels lightheaded from the sudden movement. He thinks it weird because that usually never happens to him, even when he does backflips or hangs upside down from trees. He brushes it off as fatigue, sure that it'll pass.

It takes him almost a whole minute to notice the pins and needles in his right arm. He moves his arm around, trying to get some feeling back into it, but the feeling–or rather, lackthereof–persists. He shrugs it off, thinking that it wouldn't bother him much.

He walks to his mirror and scratches at his neck, feeling the blood had dried out on the gauze. He grabs a pair of scissors sitting on his desk and cuts the wrap open. His neck wound is still red and sore-looking, but it isn’t bleeding anymore so applies more ointment on it and leaves it at that.

Rolling up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, he glances at the gauze on his right arm. He figures that he might as well replace that while he’s at it. He cuts the gauze, but when he tries to pull it off, it stuck to where the wound sits. Wincing, he gingerly peels the gauze off of his arm.

He finds that the tissues on his arm has begun to necrotise, the spot of the bite being at the worst state. His body on autopilot, he quickly grabs a bottle of rubbing alcohol from his medicine cabinet and pours it all over his arm then covers the entire length of his arm with gauze a little too thickly.

He sighs heavily and walks out of his room, doing his best to ignore the state of his arm and go about the day as usual. He shoves back the part of his brain that's screaming at him as to what all this is pointing towards.

When he comes downstairs, Anti finds that he is the last to wake that morning. He instantly goes for the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of tea from the kettle on the stove, feeling that it is now lukewarm.

“Hey Anti,” Seán greets him, making his way towards him from the living room. “You’re up pretty late,” he comments.

“I was tired,” Anti says, sipping his cup of tea.

“Well, I hope you had a good rest, then,” Seán smiles at him sympathetically. He leans on the counter across from Anti and drinks from his own mug of coffee.

Anti looks around toward the living room where everyone sits doing their morning routines. It only takes him a moment to realise that they’re missing two heads. “Where’s Schneep and Jackie?” he asks.

“Oh, right,” Seán looks up from his cup and continues, “JJ said they went out hunting this morning.”

Anti huffs in acknowledgement before saying, “Hope they catch a bear or something.” Seán chuckles lightly at his remark.

“Wait, are there even any bears around here?” Seán then asks, mostly to himself. He walks towards the coffee machine, pouring himself another mug. Anti was about to comment on his caffeine consumption but decides otherwise. He finishes his tea then puts the cup in the sink. He then grabs a slice of the bread from the breadbox beside the coffee machine.

“I’ll be in the attic if you need me,” he says to Seán as he walks towards the stairs. The other gives a ‘yeah sure’ in reply just before he falls out of earshot.

Once on the second floor, instead of pulling down the attic stairs, Anti instead goes to Jackie’s room. He turns the door handle, grateful to find that it isn’t locked, and opens the door gently. He goes around the room looking for the key to the garage door, making sure not to move any of the things from their original place. He finds the key in the drawer of the nightstand and quickly leaves the room, closing the door as gently as he opened it.

He turns into his electric form and zips towards the garage downstairs, staying close to the ceiling in hopes no-one would see him. But just before he reaches the door, a sharp pain in his right arm jolts him to rematerialise and stumble onto the floor, almost hitting the walls. He clutches his arm tightly and props himself up on the wall beside the door. He feels the headache from earlier today becoming stronger as well.

He slowly stands up, back still propped up to the wall. “Well, let’s not do that again, okay?” he whispers to himself. He now really hopes that no-one actually spotted him because, frankly, this is quite embarrassing.

He fumbles with the lock, only able to do it single-handedly and with a pounding headache. He eventually manages and quickly gets inside.

The only light source in the garage is a small window in the back wall, above a workbench. The morning light that comes in is reflected onto the back of Henrik’s car, making the room seem just a little brighter. He grabs the welding machine from on top of the workbench and the soldering kit from the drawer beneath it. He holds them both in one arm, making sure they’re stable, then opens the door back to the house.

And here comes the hard part. The only reason Anti needed to open the door is because he couldn’t bring electronics with him in his lightning form without damaging them. So, he has to bring them upstairs, to the attic, and to the roof all by hand.

He closes the door behind him, holds his things tightly, and takes a deep breath. He walks over to the stairway in long, quick strides. Getting there as fast as he can without making as much noise as he would if he ran. Once he’s on the second floor, he pulls down the attic stairs and climbs up. In the attic, he sets his things down and pulls the stairs back up.

Anti then stops for a moment, scolding himself for not thinking about this very thoroughly, as he’s going to have to fix the radio antenna with only one hand. But thankfully, almost two hours later, he manages to weld the antenna back in place. He sits at the station desk and puts on the headphones and gets to work.

Anti flips through frequencies, and very rarely does he actually hear something that isn’t static. He catches their local military outpost’s frequency, which was broadcasting some bullshit he can’t be bothered to _really_ listen to. He knows that he probably won’t need whatever it is they’re saying, but he figures that he might as well note it down anyway. He lands on the Host’s frequency again, but he changes it immediately out of spite, still slightly annoyed from yesterday.

After what felt like hours passed, Anti grows tired along with a migraine blooming at the back of his head. The backs of his eyes burn, as if he’s having a fever. And after putting a hand on his forehead, he confirms that he really does. He rests his head on his right arm and his eyelids grow heavy. A prickling feeling begins to grow where the bite wound is, becoming more painful as time goes on, but he feels too tired to pay it any mind.

Eventually, he gives in to sleep, the static in his ears serving as a lullaby.

 

* * *

 

The weather isn’t very cold that morning, but the wind is surprisingly strong. Henrik, understandably, regrets not wearing his scarf. Beside him is Jackie, hands tucked in his coat pockets and his red pullover hoodie covering his head. Since they left Henrik’s house, the two have been walking silently. The only sounds being their boots thumping on the asphalt and the wind in their ears.

As they near the forest, Henrik breaks their long silence. “What’s gotten you all gloomy?” he asks his friend, his eyes still facing the empty road ahead.

From the corner of his eyes, he sees Jackie turning his head to face him. “What makes you say that?” the other asked, failing to hide the defensiveness in his voice.

Henrik stops and turns to face Jackie. He can now see his expression clearly annoyed and frustrated while feigning confusion. Henrik sighs. Jackie has always been a bad liar, but he doesn’t mention it, knowing it’ll get him nowhere.

“Well, firstly, you got defensive when I asked you, so that revealed _something_.” Jackie scrunches up his face at this. But before he could reply, Henrik continued speaking, “You barely spoke since yesterday afternoon, and I saw how you eyed Anti, especially during dinner.”

Jackie begins to walk faster, occasionally glaring back at the doctor. “I know you two hate each other, but I had hoped you realised that now’s not the time to be making enemies, especially with people we’re living with,” Henrik says with a raised voice, “Even Anti’s doing his best.” Jackie doesn’t slow his pace or even turn his head and keeps on walking towards the forest.

Henrik sighs. “You’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he says from behind, briskly walking to catch up.

 

Fallen leaves crunch beneath their boots, making quite a racket of their walking. From their earlier visits to this forest, there were only animals roaming around, no Infected. They can only hope that they don’t start showing up now, at this forest’s noisiest time of year.

Henrik in on guard now, rifle in his arms. Beside him, Jackie is a bit more relaxed, but his hands are in fists and are faintly glowing all the same.

These trips would often bring Henrik back to when his father was still alive and they’d go on hunting trips in Germany and its neighbouring countries. He remembers the first time he shot something with this rifle, back when he was 17. He made a direct hit to the deer’s heart on his first try. His father congratulated him for it, saying he was gifted. He never told this to his father or to anyone else, but back then, he was terrified. He was terrified how he had the power to kill something with just the movement of his index finger. The gun had always felt heavy in his arms. Now, the gun feels light and he’d shoot with barely any hesitation. Now, he’s afraid of why he _wasn’t_ afraid of killing anymore.

”Wait,” Jackie whispers, bringing Henrik out of his thoughts, “Is that what I think it is?” He points to something hundreds of meters away that could’ve been easily mistaken for naked branches in the autumn forest.

“Deer antlers,” Henrik quietly confirms as he raises his rifle. Through the scope, he sees that the deer is standing behind a bush and it brings its head up. Henrik debates on taking the shot and where to shoot. Should he aim for the head, or guess where its heart is? Or should he just wait for a better angle?

“So, are you gonna shoot it or not?” Jackie prompts him after moments of silence.

Henrik keeps his eyes trained at the deer, still mulling over his choices. Then suddenly, the deer begins to slowly move forward. Henrik’s eyes widen. _’This is it! My chance for a broadside shot!’_ Henrik glances to Jackie beside him and motions for him to be quiet. He sees Jackie nod from the corner of his eye and he aims for the deer’s heart, right behind its shoulder. Henrik takes a deep breath and stills.

The sound of the gunshot echoes through the quiet forest, resounding in every direction, making the shooter’s presence clear as day. The deer hears the loud noise and tries to run away from it, but unfortunately for it, Henrik’s bullet was far too fast and struck its chest, right in its heart. It fell to the ground almost instantly.

Henrik sighs and lowers his gun. He hands over a hunting knife to Jackie, who takes it and runs towards the deer. Henrik graces his fingers over the initials carved in cursive on the old wood of the rifle– _D.v.S._ , his father’s name—then slings it back on his shoulder.

He walks over to where the deer had fallen and is surprised to find Jackie has already finished field dressing the deer. Jackie wiped the knife on his coat sleeve before handing it back to the doctor. “Took you long enough,” he remarks

“Sorry, I was…lost in thought,” Henrik simply says. Jackie huffs but doesn’t pry further. Jackie lifts the deer up on his shoulders and the two begin their walk back.

 

Their trip has been mostly silent, save for Jackie battling his runny nose from the cold weather. But as they entered the suburbs, the superhero spoke up, “He’s hiding something.”

Henrik turns his head towards his friend in confusion. “Excuse me?”

Jackie simply gives him a side glance before continuing. “You told me to talk about it, so now I’m talking about it. I have a feeling that he’s hiding something.”

“Who?”

“You know _who_.”

Henrik sighs wearily. _’Not this again,’_ he thinks. “What could he possibly be hiding?” Henrik asks the superhero. “And what proof do you have?”

“Not sure. And I don’t have any proof either,” Jackie says, sounding slightly deflated. “I know how stupid I sound, but I have a hunch that it’s something big. So big that it probably spells trouble for all of us,” he continues, determined.

Henrik scratches the back of his head and looks off to the side, passing by a patch of daylilies in bloom. He knows that there would be no point in arguing, especially if Jackie is this determined. And yet, he feels the need to defend the glitch. For the past two years, Anti has been relatively well behaved, despite the occasional hiccup, and Henrik has been there to make sure of it. He’s always been there for him, as a mentor, as an ear for his outbursts, as moral support, and he almost prides himself for it. But wouldn’t having that be seen now make him look as if he’s taken a side?

With another sigh, Henrik chooses his next words carefully. “So, you’re worried that Anti is hiding something that’s dangerous for himself and others?” he begins, arms crossed. “Either way, don’t you think it’s better if we asked him directly?

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, nor am I saying you’re right either. I just think it’s better for all of us if we just asked rather than point fingers,” Henrik explains. Jackie still doesn’t look convinced, but he agrees and drops the subject.

Henrik, on the other hand, keeps dwelling on it, even as they enter the backyard of his house.

“Welcome back, you guys!” Marvin greets them as they enter the house. The magician sits at the living room couch, reading an old-looking, weathered book. Its hardcover half-torn from its spine and its pages brittle and yellowed. He holds it delicately and turns the pages even more so.

When Jackie enters the house, Seán half-shouts from the kitchen, “Holy shit, you guys actually caught a deer.”

“It was all Henrik, honestly. He’s the one who shot it from a mile away,” Jackie says as he put the deer out on the back porch.

“It wasn’t a mile away,” Henrik mumbles quietly. _‘It was only around 900 meters away, not that far,’_ he wanted to say, but thought otherwise.

With a timid laugh beforehand, Henrik tells Jackie to put the deer somewhere else. “The garage would do for now,” he says. Jackie replies with a ‘yessir’ and picks up the deer again, carrying it to the garage.

Henrik goes over to the closet, putting back his rifle. Suddenly, from down the hall, he hears Jackie shout, “Hey, who opened the garage door?”

“Maybe you just forgot to lock it?” Chase offers.

“No, no. I remembered that I did. So someone must’ve opened it without my-”

“Either way, it makes it easier for you, no?” Henrik cuts him off. “Just go hang the deer, don’t make a fuss of it.”

“Whatever, mom,” Jackie retorts with a groan, but goes inside the garage nonetheless.

Henrik closes the closet door. After a beat, he asks, “Say, where’s Anti?”

“In the attic. He said he was going to try to fix the radio again,” Seán replies. “But he’s been there all day. Last I saw him was at breakfast, and even then it was only for a while. He woke up pretty late, even by Marvin’s standards.” They hear Marvin give a defensive ‘Hey!’ from the living room.

“Well, why didn’t you check on him?”

“I don’t wanna bother him because, well, you know how he gets,” Seán answers, scratching the back of his head.

Sighing, Henrik says, “I’ll go check on him then. The attic, right?”

“Yeah.”

Henrik nods then heads upstairs. He pulls down the attic stairs and climbs up. There, he finds Anti sleeping on the desk of the radio station, head resting on his right arm.

“Anti?” Henrik calls out. No response.

He walks over to him and holds the sleeping man’s shoulder. “Hey, Anti, wake up, it’s getting late,” he says gently while shaking him. He presses two fingers to Anti’s neck, finding his pulse beating steadily, confirming that Anti is only sleeping. He doesn’t know why he did that, and frankly he’s a bit scared he’ll find any other result.

Out of something like curiosity, Henrik gently pulls the headphones off of the sleeping Anti and puts them on. At first, he hears nothing but static. But then, he hears a deep melody beginning to play. Listening to it more closely, he recognises it almost immediately. It’s his favourite cello sonata. His go-to piece for recitals and his trump card for competitions.

He closes his eyes, cherishing the song behind the static for a little longer. For a moment, he imagines in his left hand is the neck of his own cello. His other hand holds the bow, stroking at the invisible strings. He leaves his muscle memory to work, his left fingers lightly pressing at nothing, his right hand moving the invisible bow, all with precision. A few moments later, the music cuts off and Henrik is brought back to the attic, Anti still sleeping soundly in front of him.

“Heh, _Scheiß,_ ” he whispers to himself with a grimace. He then takes off the headphones and sets them down on the table.

He shakes Anti again, but still, he doesn’t stir. He puts the back of his hand on Anti’s forehead and almost immediately pulls away, feeling that it’s scalding hot. Anti’s body has always been rather warm normally, he supposes that this is his body’s version of having a fever.

“Well, I suppose since you’re not getting up,” Henrik lifts him up and carries him in his arms, careful not to touch his burning hot skin. He carries Anti down towards his own room and sets him down on the bed.

Just as Henrik is about to leave the room, he catches sight of Anti’s right hand, covered in bandages. He pulls up the sleeve and finds that his entire arm was wrapped in bandages, and thickly at that. Even through the bandages, he feels that it’s almost just as hot as his bare skin in other places. He makes a mental note to check on Anti tomorrow, both on his burning fever and his arm, as he doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon.

Henrik makes his way to leave the room but then stops at the doorway. He gives a last glance at Anti, turns off the light, and closes the door, leaving Anti to sleep for the rest of the day.


End file.
